


Wandering hands but constant heart

by aimeewrites



Series: Atonement [1]
Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: F/F, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 04:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20039770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeewrites/pseuds/aimeewrites
Summary: In London, Anne Lister decides to pay a visit to an acquaintance without her wife. However, the latter receives an unexpected visit, and Anne is most displeased. What ensues ...(in bold letters, extracts from Anne's original journals)





	Wandering hands but constant heart

_« **Explained affectionately and calmly** to A- that I will see Lady Stuart alone. A- in a temper and sulking. Wish she did not go into such childish passions for nothing. We are married but my life is still my own and I shall do what I please. A – said she ought not to be with me and should leave me to my independence. That I am not suited to coupledom and would be happier alone. **There is danger in the first mention, the first thought, that it is possible for us to part – time will shew – I shall try to be prepared for whatever may happen**.”_

“Anne – you are home early – would you care for some tea with us? I can ring for the servant!”

“No, thank you, Ann – I have had my tea at Lady Stuart. I am now rethinking my earlier impulse not to bring you – if I had thought for a moment you would entertain one of your acquaintances so – intimately. If I had thought you would – you would behave like a common whore! Miss Rawson, if you please – would you be kind enough to stop pawing my wife? And to leave immediately!”

Ann heard Anne’s anger in her voice and thought she and Catherine Rawson were perfectly innocent of any misdemeanour, she couldn’t help blushing and pushing Catherine away.

“Anne! How can you! I fainted from the closeness of this room, and Catherine was trying to help!”

“And for that she needed her hands all over your bosom? You disappoint me, Ann – I thought better of you. Miss Rawson, you are not welcome in my house. I will have the maid call for your carriage.”

Anne wanted nothing more than to stalk out of the room and to let her rage and sorrow out but she forced herself to stay in the room, standing ramrod straight near the door until Catherine left. She would have ignored her polite curtsey but for her inner courtesy which forced her to acknowledge the gesture by a nod. Then she ignored her wife who was looking daggers at her and strode out, head high, before crumbling on her bed and screaming and bawling into her pillow. When she had calmed down, she sat at her desk and began to write furiously.

_“Found A- in a tender embrace with C- Rawson. C- had her hands on A-‘s bosom and almost sat on her lap. Did I interrupt a kiss? I have suspected for a long time that A- was no innocent – she was too much interested and knowing about matters of the flesh. Now I have proof she would stray at the earliest opportunity. How can she do that to me? How dare she, when we have taken the sacrament together? My wife refuses me her body and yet offers herself to someone else?...”_

Exhausted by the commotion, Anne fell asleep without seeing Ann again that night. When she woke up the next morning and found herself alone in a cold bed, she thought for one moment that Ann had followed through with her threats. What if Ann had left her? What would she do? A cold shiver tore through her body and she hurried into the parlour, where she found her wife asleep in one of the armchairs.

When Anne came home for luncheon, they faced each other at the table without a word. Ann appeared more sad than angry, and Anne tried to hide unwelcome pangs of guilt behind a stony façade. Finally, Ann spoke up: “Do you really think so little of me that you can accuse me of betraying you? I have always loved you, Anne , and none other. I have never shown myself unfaithful. Can you say the same? Can you swear that you never look at anybody but me?”

Anne lowered her eyes and stared at her half-full plate – certainly this was not a claim she could make, as no later than the previous day her eyes had been attracted by a Miss Glazer, of no fortune but beautiful figure and very amiable character. Faced with Anne’s silence, Ann murmured: “I thought not. I have noticed your eyes wandering when we are in company, and although I want to trust you, I cannot but be suspicious when you insist on visiting your friends alone.”

“Ann, I – “

“If I cannot convince you otherwise, maybe this will.”

Ann left the room and Anne forced down another forkful of carrot and peas before admitting defeat. Suddenly the vegetables had turned bitter in her mouth. Ann came back into the room carrying both of their bibles, which she laid carefully on the table. She put her hand on both and looked at Anne: “I swear to you, Anne Lister, that I have never wanted another woman. On this bible that you were carrying on our wedding day, on mine, I swear nothing happened between Catherine Rawson and myself. Now – are you satisfied?”

Anne could not meet her wife’s eyes and she pushed back her chair violently and almost ran out of the room. She hated herself for having doubted her wife, for having made her use the Bible as her guarantor, and part of her hated Ann, too, because she much disliked being caught at fault, and in this case the fault was certainly hers for being overly jealous. She had called her wife a whore, too, and that she strongly regretted. Unable to face Ann just yet, she went to her bedroom and prayed for guidance.

A few hours later, she went in search of her wife and found her reading in the drawing-room. She cleared her throat but Ann did not even glance in her direction. Anne sat in the armchair opposite and pretended to read too, but a few minutes afterwards she threw the book aside and sank down on her knees in front of Ann, resting her head on her wife’s lap. Ann stiffened and Anne lifted her eyes, pleading: “Anne – please forgive me. I – owe you my humblest apologies and I will try to amend my ways. I – I did not know they caused you pain. Please.”

“I just – I do not know if I can forgive you.”

Ann’s defences were beginning to crumble, and she knew she would not be able to resist her wife for long but the humiliation of the past day hardened her resolve. If she yielded now, it could happen again. If she gave Anne what she wanted, what she was waiting for, it would bring atonement and forgiveness, and Ann was not sure she was ready for that. At least she had had time to calm down – now sorrow had replaced the anger in her soul. The truth was that seeing Anne on her knees almost broke her heart, but if she did not really nip this into the bud, what chance had they for the future? She knew Anne was jealous – had known long before their union. Anne had told her she wished she had not been engaged to Mr. Fraser, and had been wild when she had learnt of Mr. Ainsworth’s courtship. She, however, had always been faithful to Anne and had nothing to reproach herself with. Seeing her friend Catherine had been an unexpected pleasure – when she had received her calling card, Anne was already gone – and they had done nothing but talk and have a game of cards until she had felt faint. Thinking about it made her angry all over again. She did not want to spend her whole life lying or not seeing her friends. So whatever she did today had to leave a mark on Anne – the stigma of love. She had to make her believe in herself, make her believe she was worthy of love – in their own way.

Waiting was the worse – the uncertainty. “Please, Ann…”

“Please what?” Her wife was going to make her beg – she hated that, and yet … She would do it, of course. Begging was part of the atonement, of the healing. Anne lowered her eyes, unable to take her wife’s stony glare anymore. Her shoulders slumped and she bowed her head. Then, seeing that Ann was not going to speak, she got up slowly and went to the bedroom. She came back and offered Ann the implement she had in her hands. When Ann did not make a move to take it, she laid them on the sofa and slowly began to undress. Once in her undergarments, she sank down on her knees again. If Ann did not give her the release she craved, she feared her self would dissolve there, on the spot. Because it would mean it was all over – desire would have disappeared, expectations would have vanished and she would have no more reason to live. Finally, Ann’s hand hovered over the tawse, and as Anne’s body began to react in anticipation, it also began to tremble in fear. She did not fear pain, she feared it would not be enough.

“Please, Ann, please…”

“You know the rules, Lister – you have to ask.”

“Please, Ma’am, will you punish me?”

The words were said so low that Ann almost made Anne repeat her, but she knew how much the simple sentence cost the proud woman at her feet. The first time, it had been a simple game, but afterwards Anne had found the courage to talk about it, and Ann had understood what it meant to her wife. Ann hesitated. She was still not sure she could wield the tawse in punishment and in love, not in anger. Her body had forgiven Anne, her heart rate quickened, all her senses were aroused. It would probably be all right. She took the instrument of punishment in her hand and heard Anne’s sharp intake of breath. Anne glanced at the tawse and immediately wished she had not brought it – that she had not bought in during her last trip to Edinburgh. It could bring as much pleasure as it did pain, and she could remember the last time, and …

Anne felt her wife’s fingers on hers and instinctively raised her hand to Ann’s inner legs, caressing them, fingers going up…

“No, Anne!” Of course it would not be that easy. “Hold up your hand!”

It stung like hell – always did – and yet Ann was always careful not to use too much strength on the hands – even thus, holding her pen would be painful today. This was just a warning. Ann imprisoned the reddening hand in hers once more, and caressed the palm with her thumb, raising it to her lips for a quick kiss. Then she cupped her other hand under Anne’s chin and lifted her face to hers. Their eyes locked, and Anne leant forward, seeking Ann’s lips, hoping against hope a kiss could seal forgiveness. Ann accepted the kiss, drawing Anne’s face towards hers for a second so that their lips could meet hungrily, before pushing her back, releasing her chin. One glance at Ann’s eyes told Anne she would not escape that easily, and she sat back on her knees, lowering her eyes, waiting for the next order.

“Get up and bend over the armchair, Lister.”

Slowly, she stood up and went to assume the hated position. She kept her eyes down, hoping somehow that ignoring the implement in Ann’s hand would make it less painful. She lowered herself on the back of the armchair and closed her eyes. She heard her wife stand up and position herself behind her. Once more Ann took Anne’s hand in hers, and Anne acknowledged the unspoken question by pressing Ann’s fingers with hers – she agreed to what was coming.

The tawse ripped the air, and Anne stifled a cry. Again and again the tawse fell and Anne gritted her teeth – the pain and the throbbing in her lower belly merged and she could feel the moisture mounting between her legs. She tried to keep count but her whole being was bent on absorbing the lashes. A lower stroke hit harder, a tender area and she could not keep herself from crying out. Another one fell nearly on the same spot and now she was sobbing. A third one on that same area made her howl, and Anne arched her back before slumping down again like a rag doll.

Never in anger or you might overstep your lover’s limits …This was why Ann had tried to calm herself down before …Why she was sometimes reluctant to use an implement. However, her anger had risen again, to the point that it almost blinded her. Only when she heard her lover scream did she suddenly realise what she had done. The last strokes had drawn blood, and Ann’s heart broke when she saw the pain Anne was in. She threw the tawse across the room and took Anne in her arms, guiding her towards the ottoman. She caressed her hair and her face but Anne could not stop weeping. Atonement had been achieved, but its price had broken her. She burrowed deeper into her wife’s arms, and laid her head on Ann’s shoulder. When Ann tried to kiss her, however, she turned away. She could not – not just yet. When she got up and Ann tried to follow her, Anne shook her head silently and headed towards the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

It had all gone terribly wrong – Ann remained wide awake into the night, banishing herself from the bedroom, letting the fire die down and the cold reach her bones. Finally she could not stand it anymore. She opened the bedroom door quietly and just stood there, watching. Anne had fallen asleep, exhaustion overcoming her at last. She had not bothered with the covers that laid rumpled, half on the bed and half on the floor. In the unguarded state of sleep, Anne had an almost childlike appearance, all curled up in the double bed with her dark hair all over her face, fists clenched in unconscious defence against nightmares. Only her exposed skin, welted and bruised, marred the picture, the incongruous reminder of what had happened. Ann felt the tears rise and she swallowed hurriedly several times. She reached for the bedclothes and gently draped them over Anne before slipping under it next to her.

When the sun appeared behind the curtains left undrawn, they had entwined during the night and Anne’s arms were around Ann. Their kisses that morning were tender and full of unspoken words and promises. In the evening, when Ann apologised over and over again, Anne went down on her knees once more and took her lover’s hands in hers : “Ann – I know – I understand, my love. There is nothing to forgive – I wanted you to treat me harshly, and I hope I have won your forgiveness. I shall try to do better. I – need you – I do not want to be alone ever again – I do not think I would survive if you left me.” She leant over and placed a tender kiss on her wife’s mouth while her hand crept up towards Ann’s queer…


End file.
